sunshine and whiskey (every time you kiss me)
by AtLoLevad
Summary: Karen Page, drunk as all hell, finally gets to ask Frank why he didn't let her know he was alive.


Karen lists slightly to the side on her stool, hand wrapped securely around a tumbler of whiskey. She rubs at her eye with the heel of her hand and sighs.

So, Matt Murdock is alive and Frank Castle is dead - again.

Karen Page's life is nothing if not interesting.

She shouldn't be here drinking, but the Matt bombshell had pulled a rug out from under her. She's already reeling from Frank's disappearance - again. To be honest, she's just really tired.

So she came to Josie's and got drunk.

It was easy, really. Her tolerance is way down and the bartender likes her so the drinks are cheap. She knocks back another gulp of whiskey and coughs a little at the harsh burn of alcohol. Her glass isn't empty for long and before she knows it, Karen is absolutely trashed.

"I-" she starts shakily, slurring her words, "am berry - very - not lucky in love."

She's talking to no one - her words floating through the air and disappearing into the noise. That doesn't deter Karen though. Continuing to knock back whiskey, she mumbles to herself about stupid men and their stupid moral codes and stupid disappearing and reappearing acts.

The night wears on, but somewhere around 1:30, Karen hits a wall. All of a sudden her limbs feel heavy - a stark contrast to the lightness the alcohol had provided earlier. She squints against the lights in the bar, even though they're fairly dim. Josie herself comes out and cuts Karen off, pulling the empty glass from Karen's numb fingers with a gentle "Gonna call an Uber, Page?"

"Nope," Karen mumbles, taking back her credit card and dropping it into the depths of her purse. "I wanna walk a bit."

Josie looks skeptical, but she knows Karen has mace and a gun in her purse, so she's less concerned. Reluctantly, she nods and waves Karen out of the bar.

Karen grins crookedly, gathers her purse, and absolutely falls right off her stool. She's silent for a minute, arms and legs akimbo sitting on the ground. Josie looks over the bar top, but before she can ask anything, Karen bursts into laughter. Getting slowly and clumsily to her feet, Karen waves off Josie's concern.

"So fine! Totally fine, Josie!" she slurs, wobbling out of the bar.

Due to her inebriated state, Karen manages to make it three or four blocks without realizing that someone is following her. Eventually, she stops at the corner to wait for a light to change and she hears something - a breath, a heavy footstep, she isn't sure. So she turns, a little wobbly, and threatens, "I have mace and a gun, so fuck off."

There's a muffled laugh and Frank Castle steps out of the shadows.

"Don't doubt you're good with the gun, Karen," he says, a small smirk on his face, "but I haven't been hit in a while. I'd like to keep that streak going."

"Frank Castle," Karen says a little dumbly, her tongue fumbling over his name.

With a little shrug, he says, "In the flesh."

With surprising speed and dexterity for someone so drunk, Karen rushes forward and starts hitting his chest with closed fists. Frank stands there and lets her hit him - he deserves it.

"You asshole! You absolute fucking asshole!" Karen shouts, fists hitting away. "I can't believe you! I thought you were dead!"

"I know, I know," Frank says, patiently waiting for her fists of fury to die down. Eventually they do, and he grabs her wrists in his hands, holding them in the air. Karen's fists flatten out and her palms are facing his chest. Her fingertips curl slightly towards him, as if she wants to rest her hands against his chest.

He doesn't let her.

"I hate you, Frank Castle," she says, her voice slurring. But her eyes say otherwise. Despite the glassiness of too many drinks, Frank doesn't see any spark of hate in her blue eyes.

God, he wished he did. That would make everything easier - if she hated him.

"You were dead," she sighs, slumping in his grip - all the fight gone.

"I know," Frank repeats. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" she spits. "I don't believe you, Frank. 'Cause you just disappear. You let me -" she breaks off, clamping her lips together tightly.

Frank sighs and drops her hands. She immediately crosses her arms over her chest - protecting herself.

"Madani gave me a second chance," he explains. "Frank Castle had to die."

His short explanation doesn't do anything to stop the well of drunken tears that flood Karen's eyes. "I bet you didn't cut everyone off. You still talk to David Lieberman, I'm sure. How come I was the one that got radio silence, Frank?"

He can't tell her the real reason - that she makes him feel too much, that she's dangerous for him, that he'd lose it all again if anything happened to her. So he lies.

"I don't know," he shrugs, hating himself because he's the one that put the devastated expression on Karen's face.

"Bullshit, Frank," she hisses. Her face is turning red as she's getting angrier. "I thought - we were friends, weren't we? There was something. Do you even like me, Frank? As a person?"

Her voice cracks and Frank's heart breaks.

"Jesus, Karen," he scrubs a hand over his face - he can't believe they're having this conversation in the middle of the empty city streets at nearly 3 am - and sucks in a deep breath. "Of fucking course I like you. That's what makes it so hard."

"Makes what hard?" Karen asks, her tone curious under the hurt.

"Not doing this every time I see you," he says, making a split second decision and stepping forward into her personal space to cup her chin and press his lips to hers. It's a soft kiss, tentative, but loaded.

Karen melts under his touch, kissing him back for a second before he pulls away. They both lick their lips, staring at each other.

"Oh," she murmurs, all the fight completely gone from her body.

Frank smiles softly at her reaction. She looks adorable - the lights of the street lamps give her a halo around her blonde hair and her cheeks are flushed from alcohol and the kiss, he assumes. It's all he can do not to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry, Karen," he says again. Clarifying, "About the radio silence."

She nods. "I'll forgive you now, but if you keep doing it," she gives him a dirty look, "I won't be as nice."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, very serious.

"Now, that's settled," she says, "I really need something greasy."

Now that the tension between them has dissipated, Frank notices that she's still swaying in place and she's definitely still drunk. He snorts a laugh and grabs her elbow, steering her gently down the street.

"'M sure we can find a diner."

* * *

 _A/N: Kastle fam! I'm back! I've got two more stories in various stages of completion lol_

 _I pulled some of this from my own real life experiences, so this was kind of cathartic to write. I'd really appreciate your thoughts! :)_


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